


Another Language

by chaosmanor



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Silence Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor





	Another Language

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】另一种语言](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135970) by [chaosmanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor), [Sixhalfmk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixhalfmk/pseuds/Sixhalfmk)



Silence rippled through the temple, and each and every one of Anakin's bodily functions seemed painfully loud. His stomach gurgled and glugged, splished and sloshed. His heart was loud, his breath rough and deep; his eyeballs even had a sound, much to his disbelief, when he flicked them sideways at Obi-Wan where he sat silently beside him.

This was the challenge, to remain in silence for days at a time, sharing meals and meditation space with Obi-Wan, but nothing else, and it was going to be a trial of endurance.

He missed Obi-Wan's laugh already, and they'd been there less than a day. When, at the door of the retreat, Anakin had asked what he should do if he needed advice, Obi-Wan had shaken his head gently and pushed the door open, and not answered his question.

Anakin stood carefully, his robes an unbearable rustle in the peace, and kept his footsteps across the mats as quiet as he possibly could. He didn't have to spend the entire time in meditation, only in repose, and he could repose quite comfortably leaning against the balcony, looking down the valley.

The trees rose, serried rank upon rank, and the moons slid and wavered around each other, glittering yellow and red, complex dance of rotational forces that Anakin would no doubt do the calculations for before this retreat was over, driven by boredom and isolation to calculus and gravitational mapping. The sky was intense violet, and Anakin knew the wavelength of the reflected light and the size of the gas molecules in the stratosphere, the knowledge there, ready in his mind if he should ever need it.

He had mountains to gaze at, but mountains were inherently dull, merely lumps of rock that stuck up in the air, of consequence only if he wanted to get over one, or avoid flying into it, so he looked down into the valley.

A thread of water ran, sliver of white among the trees, and he speculated about walking down there and saying something, just to himself, where Obi-Wan wouldn't hear him.

But Obi-Wan would know, and they would have to stay longer, just to begin all over again.

*

The meal was plain, a boiled grain and some foliage, but early poverty had taught Anakin what hunger was, and he shovelled the first mouthful in, only to realise how terribly loud chewing could be.

Obi-Wan was eating, and managing to do it quietly, and Anakin could hear his own jaw muscles working, his saliva glands salivating, his teeth grinding, all in some terrible and deafening indictment of his inadequacies as a Jedi.

*

Bathing was easier; the water masked the sounds of his body, and he left the spray running much longer than needed, just for the pleasure of taking a few deep breaths and staring at himself in the mirror, hair dripping around his face, cool water sliding down his skin and pooling at his feet.

He turned the water off, relieved himself, and tidied the bathroom, though the thought that Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to lecture him about any mess was reassuring; except that all Obi-Wan ever had to do was glance at him, and Anakin knew exactly what he had done wrong.

*

He was used to sleeping in the same room as Obi-Wan, they'd travelled together often enough, sharing billets and bunks and bunkers. Anakin pulled the bedding over himself and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. He just hoped he didn't talk in his sleep, or that if he did, it didn't count.

There was a rustle beside him and Obi-Wan's weight made the padding beneath Anakin dip and settle a little, and Anakin smiled to himself when Obi-Wan's hand settled on his shoulder, a silent benediction before sleep.

The hand stayed on his shoulder, fingers curling around his muscle and bone, gentle pressure through the coarse weave of Anakin's sleeping robe, and when Anakin let his barriers down he could feel the quiet humour of Obi-Wan's mind, sharing an amusement that Anakin didn't quite fathom.

The hand slid across his shoulder, up into his hair, ruffling the cropped fluff, tickling at the braid that dangled, more laughter in fingertips than Anakin would have believed possible.

He had to resist the urge to chuckle, and the fingers were on his neck now, sliding over the pressure points, tracing the solid muscle where his shoulder sloped down, then pressing rough woven fabric into Anakin's skin.

It was dark in the room, the moons set, the sun still a long way from rising, and Obi-Wan's hand kept on, down Anakin's back, and Anakin struggled to keep his breathing low and smooth as fingers traced vertebra after vertebra.

He could hear Obi-Wan's breathing now, no longer a sibilant sound on the edge of hearing, and the bedding rustled and crinkled. Anakin had to bite back a moan when Obi-Wan's hand skated over his hip to settle on his thigh.

His body was awake, aroused and eager, and sleep seemed as far away as dawn. As soon as Obi-Wan had stopped this silent goodnight, Anakin would slip out onto the balcony, and down into the forest.

Only there was a catch in Obi-Wan's breath, imperceptible to someone who didn't know him as well as Anakin did, as well as he knew himself. Anakin's cock throbbed, momentary pain, and Obi-Wan's hand had found bare skin, down low on Anakin's thigh.

He didn't understand, and he couldn't ask, but there was no way he was going to do anything to stop the hand's slow progress.

Speaking had stopped being an option, with Obi-Wan's broad hand cupping his buttock, but he needed to communicate somehow, let Obi-Wan know, make sure consent was given. When he reached behind him, for Obi-Wan's arm, shoulder, side, he found bare skin instead of the customary robe, and his teeth ached with the effort of not moaning as his hand slid across skin warm and rough with hair.

He knew Obi-Wan's chest, had cried against it as a child, longing for his mother, had seen it innumerable times, sweat-matted or blood-smeared, but this was the first time he'd ever rolled over and pressed his mouth against it.

Obi-Wan tasted of clean air and the salt he rubbed his body clean with, and both of his hands cradled Anakin's skull, guiding Anakin's mouth across his chest.

When Anakin opened his eyes, mostly to reassure himself this was not some intense erotic dream, the room was no longer completely dark since they were both glowing faintly, Force humming through them, and Obi-Wan's hands pulled at Anakin's robe, sliding it from his shoulders, his hands finding bare skin.

The nub of nipple beneath Anakin's tongue tightened, and Obi-Wan's breathing sounded deafeningly loud now, as Anakin lifted his mouth and slid up the mattress to find Obi-Wan's lips.

There was a give and take to the kiss, a dialogue between their bodies, and of all the languages Anakin had learnt, this was the sweetest lesson and the easiest to learn. The words were mapped out by Obi-Wan's mouth, heard and understood by Anakin's skin, and in the silence of the room the slide of skin on skin was loud.

Neither of them moaned, for that would have been speech, but he could feel the threaded tension in Obi-Wan's thigh. Anakin pressed his fingers behind the band of muscle, searching for the pressure point, and he knew by Obi-Wan's shivers that he had found it.

Obi-Wan fell back onto the thin mattress, luminous in the darkness, head tipped back. Anakin could feel the Force surging through their bodies, flooding the room, and it made him weak and dizzy.

Obi-Wan's thighs were splayed apart, more of an invitation than any words ever could be, and Obi-Wan's hand curled around Anakin's cock, guiding him gently, and Anakin managed not to scream at the first contact.

He was breathing hard, struggling for the control he would need, and Obi-Wan's hands on his back slid down, across his sacrum, finding the places where the Force was coiled, pressing gently, and the tension eased a little.

He found, with Obi-Wan's hands gentling him, that he could delay, make this the slowest of slides, not cry out, and that by letting go of the tension, letting control of his body go too, that the stillness of the night, the safe darkness and quiet, could be inside him as well.

He was slow, carefully slow, mouth against Obi-Wan's, not to stifle their moans but to share one breath, fingers threaded into Obi-Wan's hair, holding them both steady, and Obi-Wan's hands guided his rock and slide.

Other times, with other people, had been intense and satisfying, but Anakin had never known what to say, how to say what he felt, and this time, when words were not an option, it seemed that every touch, every tiny movement, said everything there was.

They stayed like that, caught on the edge of the precipice, each movement an exchange, a dialogue, until the perse light of the coming dawn faded the opaline shimmer of the Force.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in, breaking the rhythm they had found, and beneath Anakin's lips his jaw muscles tightened. Wetness spread across Anakin's belly, and he fell off the edge of the cliff too, holding on to the stillness and silence, letting gravity take him.

*

The cloth was rough against Anakin's skin, and he leant against the stone wall and let the warm water course down his body, and when he turned his head to smile at Obi-Wan, who was washing him, the water ran into his eyes, and he felt so clean.

Obi-Wan touched his face, just gently, with the cloth, and it was better than listening to him laugh, better than anything.

So it seemed to Anakin, as he stood with his feet in the stream, the valley and mountains towering over him, overhead a magenta sky, darkening as dusk fell. In a moment, he would climb back up the valley, to the retreat, and he and Obi-Wan would share a plain meal of grains and foliage, and the moons would dance, and they would lie together, late into the night.

*

The flyer was loud, buzzing and humming as it came through the pass between the mountains to take them back to the city, and Anakin curled his fingers around Obi-Wan's hand, making Obi-Wan laugh out loud, and he laughed too, just from the joy of hearing it.


End file.
